Build God, Then We'll Talk
by J Addams
Summary: A dark one-shot based on the song "Build God, Then We'll Talk" by Panic! At The Disco.


**Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin! You can listen to the song here: watch?v=TFSIm3Zeecg**

**Without Bea I probably wouldn't be writing, so, yeah. Sending her warm fuzzies and shit tons of love (none of which this story has, unfortunately).**

**Hope you like it, and even if you don't, you should tell me!**

* * *

"When, Blaine?" Her voice was quiet, the calm before the storm, he thought.

"Last weekend. It was only once, baby, I sw-" He said, tone pleading.

"The 'meeting' that you went to," she levelled, pitch rising, "so you went to a 'meeting' and let your asshole of a boss fuck you against his desk, Blaine? Is that how it happened?" The last sentence was said with an angry flush of her skin.

Unable to reply to this, Blaine sighed, studying his wife. She was just shorter than him, and had a slim frame, with a beautiful nest of golden hair framing her cherub-like features. Her eyes, usually a deep green, were now bright with unshed tears. How could he have hurt her?

* * *

_There was a short knock on the door, which now had 'Blaine Anderson, Attorney At Law' stamped on the front of it; it swung open to reveal his boss, Eric. The man walked up to the desk, smirking slightly as he took in the faint blush which covered the younger employee's face._

_"How's life at Candor and Smithson treating you, Blaine?" Eric asked, walking around the desk to lean on the hard wood next to Blaine's chair._

_"It's- er- it's good, thanks." He stuttered, knowing that his voice was trembling almost as much as his hands beneath the table._

_"It's okay, you're the youngest and most handsome attorney at this company. You'll get used to it." He said, smiling widely before continuing, "Blaine, I want you to come to my office, when you're done for the night. Just for a little meeting, to discuss your... progress."_

_Blaine gulped, feeling carefully trained eyes watching his every move. The older man grinned down at him, before standing and moving his lips closer to his now reddening face._

_"Strictly business." He whispered, hot breath tickling Blaine's ear tantalisingly._

_To: Sarah_  
_Be home late tonight, last minute meeting xxx_

* * *

"Sarah. I can explain, okay? It was a stupid mist-"

"Don't fucking tell me this was a mistake Blaine, a mistake was you thinking that this would be okay, that sleeping with another guy is okay!"

"If we're talking about mistakes, maybe we should talk about this relationship." He retorted, effectively silencing her.

Now her voice was barely above a whisper "What did you just say?"

"Sarah, I'm- I'm gay. I wasn't sure before but I am, and I know you're not happy about that bu-" He stopped, knowing there was no use in trying to explain his way out of this.

"Get out, Blaine. You know my parents; you know what people at the church could say. It'd be better if you just left." Sarah muttered, sitting down on the sofa dejectedly.

Blaine was about to open his mouth in protest, but one quiet "please" from his wife told him that it was useless. Picking up his jacket, he walked out into the street, sky now pattering with light rain, and began to walk.

* * *

Fremont Street was dark at this time of night as Blaine turned the corner of 4th to stand parallel to an old, derelict building. The building was covered in moss; ladders of green climbing up the brown walls and making it look even older. Somehow, its unappealing nature drew him further towards the entrance to the building.

He came to a large grey opening and pushed stubbornly against the faded iron door handle before it gave way, revealing a narrow staircase, lit dimly by lamps on either side of the walls. Feet pressing down on the carpeted stairs, he held on to the handrail to calm his nerves. A strip club was the kind of place Blaine's catholic family would cross themselves upon entering, and this atmosphere was not one he was used to. The walls had a smoky musk, like asbestos; it was almost choking, like a carcinogenic settling into his lungs.

Entering the main bar, music blasted in his ears, a mix of electronica pop and violins. The lights here were still dimmed, but there were an array of bright disco lights, illuminating a stage at the front of the large room with an eerie glow. Men and women were scattered around, sitting on sofas, at the bar, some even dancing drunkenly at the foot of the staircase. Scantily clad women circled around the room, preying on victims who sat, drinks in hand with their eyes glued to the show. Taking a seat at the bar, Blaine reached over and muttered "daiquiri" to the barman, who slid a shot glass across the table wordlessly. A drunk man was sprawled across a couple of seats to his right, laughing raucously in the direction of a waiter.

Blaine studied the waiter. He was dressed in tight red trousers, highlighting every contour of his defined legs. These were coupled with a tight white t-shirt and black suspenders, hugging his muscular form. His face was a white powdered mask, and slick red lipstick stood out against his ghostly features. His eyelids had black lines drawn across them, mimicking that of a mine artist's costume makeup. The man was like a china doll, the hair framing his face perfectly coiffed into an elaborate style. In short, he was beautiful.

"Nice ass." The businessman slurred in the waiter's, smirking. A flash of anger went through Blaine, and he instinctively tuned himself into the exchange.

"What's a matter, pretty? Don't you wanna know what a good night looks like?" He purred, "I won't tell your wife if you don't tell mine." The man stage-whispered, pulling the waiter towards him by the waist.

By this time, Blaine's blood was boiling, but he was momentarily averted from the exchange due to a woman sitting next to him. She was wearing next to nothing, accessorising only with a rosary which was tucked inside her lingerie. Turning to face her, the woman decided to slide her fingers into his pockets. He tried to protest, struggling under her touch as she ran her fingers along his neck. This place wasn't an escape for him - it provided the same caricature of intimacy that he'd always been accustomed to. He shifted uncomfortably under the woman's touch, but was soon distracted by other events.

Across the bar, there was a terrible crash. He stood up immediately, catching sight of the beautiful waiter, who was now struggling beneath the grip of the drunken businessman. Smashed glass smattered around their feet indicated that this wasn't a friendly exchange. Empowered by the alcohol now coursing through his veins, Blaine walked in their direction; he caught the eye of the waiter, who had now begun to protest even more furiously. Ice blue irises looked up at him in a silent plea for help. Without thinking, Blaine grabbed the arm of the businessman, catching him off-guard and causing him to release the waiter. He raised his fist back, punching the man in the nose before throwing him against the bar. Through his peripheral vision, he thought he had seen a ghostly figure running in the direction of the men's toilets; and without another thought, he followed.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Blaine pressed the flat of his hand against the door to the toilets, quickly taking in the scene around him. The toilets were well-furnished, with a wooden floor that didn't look like it had been polished for a long time. The waiter was sat on the floor, leaning against the door of one of the toilet stalls with a cloth in his hand. His makeup was only half-removed, but his appearance rid him of all traces of composure.

"Excuse me," He voiced, met with the gaze of the waiter, who now looked excessively vulnerable. Breath catching in his throat for a second, Blaine found he was struggling to form words. The questioning glance he was met with forced him to continue.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He finished levelly.

"Thanks. For that, I mean," He motioned towards the door, "I'm Kurt." The waiter held out a hand, which Blaine now noticed was covered in a slim black glove.

"Blaine." He replied, taking the hand extended to him and smiling weakly.

"What brings you here, Blaine? Life not going your way?" He drawled, almost sarcastically.

"No, I, er-"

"Not all sunshine and rainbows for the rich attorney?" He smirked, winking almost flirtatiously.

"I cheated on my wife and told her I was gay. So no, I guess you could say not." Blaine replied, almost bluntly. He tried to convince himself that he didn't find some enjoyment the man mocking him. Kurt raised a defined eyebrow, eyes brightening in what looked like silent approval.

"And you? I'm guessing you didn't grow up wanting to be a strip club waiter." The question was met with a laugh, but no answer. Blaine looked expectantly at Kurt, who was now watching the wall behind his head.

"Wait. Kurt." He paused, testing the name on his lips, "How did you know I was an attorney?"

"I can tell, honey." He winked, lips now just hinting at a smile.

"You didn't answer my other question-"

"Ever seen the Sound of Music, Blaine?" Kurt interrupted.

"Yes, but I don't know what that has to do with-"

"Julie Andrews is my idol. But real life, it isn't like the songs she sings." He paused for a second,

"There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses. Not for us. For us, it's sleeping with roaches like that guy out there, doing what we have to do to get by." This was the most Kurt had said to him since he'd entered the bathroom, and Blaine suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to be close to the other man.

He moved to sit next to Kurt, leaning his back on the wall next to him.

"I really need this money." Kurt whispered, as their shoulders brushed against one another.

"You don't have to do this. I know you think that's easy for me to say, but you don't." He paused for a second, knowing that his next words had the ability to change things beyond repair.

"You're beautiful. You can do whatever you want to, and by that I don't mean sleeping with guys like him. Let yourself be happy." Blaine didn't think he was breathing as he took in the appearance of the man before him, trying to guess what thoughts occupied his mind.

"He broke your heart, didn't he? Your boss?" Kurt asked, finally meeting Blaine's eyes. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward, allowing his fingers to brush against Blaine's cheek lightly. Blaine closed his eyes, and Kurt took it as a sign to move forward and capture his lips in a heated kiss. It was nothing like kissing Eric, who had been rough, quick. These lips were soft against his own, slightly dry with the remains of the red lipstick that had been there minutes ago. Kurt pulled back, licking his lips briefly, and before he could protest, Blaine pulled their mouths together once more. Hooking his fingers into the loop of Kurt's jeans, he pulled the man up until he was able to push him against the toilet stall, both men breaking apart briefly to catch their breath. In this second, Kurt flipped them around to push his own body against Blaine's, using his arms to keep him firmly held up to the stall.

"Is this- okay?" Kurt asked, almost nervously. In answer, Blaine pushed his hips forward, rolling them experimentally against his thigh and eliciting a low groan.

"More than okay. It's very, very okay." He breathed, smattering kisses along Kurt's now exposed neck. The other boy responded hair lightly pulling his hair to join their lips in a kiss once again, this time pushing his tongue into Blaine's mouth. Blaine heard more than controlled the growl that escaped his lips at this new sensation; Kurt's fingers were tracing patterns across his torso, inching lower each time. His hand brushed over Blaine's jeans, and he pulled back quickly.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, flustered as he attempted to loosen Blaine's grip on his waist, "Too much, I kn-"

"Hey, I'm new to this, remember?" He said, raising his arms in the air defensively. Chuckling quietly, he grabbed Kurt's hands and returned them to where they sat on his waist.

"Show me what to do." He whispered, lips brushing teasingly over Kurt's earlobe. The boy responded immediately by crushing their mouths together in a fierce battle once more, muttering "asshole" as he felt Blaine's smirk against his lips.


End file.
